


Beneath the Dark

by WordsAndWishes



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: #tw rape, AU, Angst, F/M, More characters, Under the Mountain - Freeform, UtM, feyre goes utm with rhys, feysand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAndWishes/pseuds/WordsAndWishes
Summary: What would have happened if Feyre had come to Prythian much earlier?Feyre Archeron has left her mortal life behind, and accepted being demi-fae. She has found her place in the Night Court's Inner Circle. But when her and Rhys attend a ball hosted by Amarantha Under the Mountain, they are in for much for then they bargained for.





	1. Prologue

I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my face, though my sobs had long since quieted.

I was perhaps leading myself to the slaughter, but I had nowhere else to go. Prythian was my only option.

I had always been able to sense father’s patience for me waning over the years. The fear when he saw how the magic I couldn’t control burst forth from my hands. How he pleaded for me to wear my hair down when I emerged with it in a high bun like Nesta’s that revealed my ears.

How he had told me I looked so much like my fae mother, and so unlike my mortal sisters.  
He had never wanted to bring that fae blood into his human family, I knew that much. But _this –_

_“This is for your own good, Feyre. You’ll be able to find others like you in Prythian.”_

Little good it would do to save the Archeron reputation – the whole village likely knew the truth by now after what I had done.

Slight, strange Feyre Archeron, was fae. 

Demi-fae, at least. Not that it mattered. Fae enough to be an outsider.

It was probably a miracle I had gone undetected as long as I did. I was an odd child – too still at times, too quick at others. Like a cat. When I grew older, I taught myself to hide the unnatural movements and strength. The magic. I did my best to look the part, and the mannerisms of the fae were no longer natural to me.

I didn’t know how to be fae, where to go –

I would probably be eaten alive in Prythian unless I was smart. 

Though if I had been smart, I wouldn’t have been discovered in the first place.

I kept my movements quiet as I trudged through the snow, the forest like an old friend. I was approaching the hole in the wall. I wouldn’t have known where to find it until I ran across the mercenary leaving the village. She claimed she had been to Prythian, and knew a place fae could sneak through the wall. She had left me with a crudely drawn map, free of charge.  
For all I knew, she could have been leading to my murder. But as I kept walking, the pressure of the wall – a sense of wrongness that sent a chill all over my body – lessened. The fog around me grew thicker until I could barely see a foot in front of me –

A breath hitched in my chest as the fog and cold faded away. I had entered Prythian.

The difference from the mortal land was stark. The sun shone, lavender blooming in the grassy meadow I now stood in. To my left, a squirrel was perched in the branches of a mighty oak tree.  
The sun shone with a strength I had never quite felt. It seemed almost….peaceful.

But I knew how deceitful these lands could be.

Bracing myself, I took another step into Prythian.


	2. Invitation

_Two years later_

What are you scheming now, Rhys?” Feyre asked, sneaking up behind me on soft feet and peering over my shoulder.

“I’m not scheming - I’m plotting, darling,” I replied smoothly, folding the paper I held.

Feyre rolled her eyes, walking over to face me. “Semantics. What’s on the paper?”

I feigned a dramatic sigh and handed over the stiff parchment, watching her eyes move slowly across the page as she sounded out words she didn’t know well. “General Amarantha of Hybern requests the presence of The High Lord of the Night Court this evening Under the Mountain, for a night of revelry and celebration. The half-moon offers us peace to rejoice in our newly formed alliances.” 

I couldn’t help but snort at the last part. Honoring moon cycles was a completely Prythian tradition, and one that only some courts upheld. The half-moon wasn’t generally seen as a symbol of peace, but it was interesting that Amarantha would try to pass herself off as knowledgeable about Prythian’s culture.

Feyre paused, raising her eyebrows at me. “The theme of the evening will be a masquerade, to honor High Lord Tamlin’s shapeshifting gift.” Again, phony pleasantness. The ball was likely to ‘apologize’ for tearing out Lucien’s eyeball and sending him back to Tamlin screaming in agony. 

The letter went on about honoring alliances, how the first shipments of goods had arrived on Prythian’s shores. We would dine on Hybern’s fine wine tonight. Feyre disdainfully tossed the letter back on the mahogany table. “I thought Amarantha had moved on from trying to forge alliances with Night.” 

I shook my head. “No. Amarantha has always had a penchant for cruelty, and she quite delighted in Hewn City. She’s been biding her time by charming Beron in Autumn, but I have no doubt she would take great pleasure in the chance to learn our secrets.”

“Are the other courts still going forward with their trading deals?” 

“Yes. All of them except Tamlin, that is. Most of the other High Lords were alive during the war, even if they were very young. I had hoped they would realize she’s still a snake. But they’ve all been fooled by her apparent ‘desire for retribution.’ They’ve forgotten how she slaughtered the humans they fought so hard to protect.” Feyre shook her head in disgust at my words.

“Tamlin must have really pissed off Amarantha for her to go after Lucien. It’s the most violent she’s been since landing on our shores.” Feyre clenched her jaw, air hissing through her teeth at the thought of Amarantha hurting Lucien. Despite everything – she still cared for him. 

“I think she has a thing for eyes, quite honestly. During the war, I saw her tear out the eyeball of Jurian, and do far worse things to those who displeased her.” 

“Are you going?” She asked. 

“I wouldn’t bother – it’ll be an evening of scheming courtiers that I have little patience for.” No matter that I would don a mask that would make me worse than them. “But the evening provides an excellent chance at figuring out her – and Hybern’s – true motivations.”

“You don’t think she wants peace and trade.” Not a question. 

“Not for a moment. Amarantha’s been angry ever since the War. Some say that she’s harbored a vengeance deeper than Hybern himself. I have no doubt that any sham of an alliance we made with her will only go poorly for us. Even Azriel’s best spies haven’t come up with any useful information. Which is why this meeting provides an opportunity to get past her mental shields and make her confess her crimes in front of all of Prythian. Both of us will be attending.” Even though I hated the idea of bringing her before Amarantha…but Feyre could take care of herself. I leaned on the side of the table as she considered.

“Killing her could lead to war.” Feyre pointed out, even though I hadn’t mentioned murder. But Feyre knew me well.

“I know. I’m prepared.” I didn’t elaborate on exactly how much thought I had put into this. 

“Are the others joining us?”

“No. If she was using this night to plan an invasion, that’s what she would hope for. I have no intention of leaving the Court vulnerable to attack. Besides, they wouldn’t be my expected entourage anyway. We’re going to have to stomach the Court of Nightmares for the evening.”

Feyre let out an exaggerated sigh, plopping herself down on an armchair. “Bring Nuala and Cerridwen too. They won’t be out of place as your handmaidens, and they’ll be able to spy.” 

I felt a rush of pride at her cunning. She had changed so much in the past six months since coming to Night. My strong, beautiful mate. 

“An excellent suggestion, and one I will be sure to carry out, darling.”

“So, you’ll be acting as the Almighty High Lord tonight. What about me?”

I gave her a crooked smile. “That’s up to you. I’ll need you to help to keep me anchored when I am in Amarantha’s mind. If one’s shields are thick enough you can become lost or entrapped in their mind – even someone as powerful as myself. You’ll also be in charge of making sure she doesn’t notice anything amiss, keeping her distracted if need be.”

She nodded. “And after that?”

There was no surprise in Feyre’s eyes, only understanding, and ferocity as I told her the rest of my plan, what I would need her to do.

“We leave at eight. Nuala and Cerridwen have been shopping and found a few possible dresses for the occasion. I took the liberty of picking out a mask for you myself.” 

“I certainly hope you picked out one beautiful enough to charm everyone.” She said, humor in her voice.

“Ah, but your own face can do that well enough on its own.”

She looked at me in amusement, tossing her shining hair as she stood. “Flirt. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Striding away on soft feet, my mate exited the room as silently as she had come.

Mate.

My mate.

If only I had the courage to tell her.  
-  
The mask Rhys had sent up to my room was made of swirling black lace, the sides of the mask swooping up to form the wings of a bat. At the center, the bat’s head was formed. Little silver gems lined the edges. It was utterly perfect, and I planned the rest of my outfit around it.

The dress itself felt unlike anything I had ever worn. Even after I had left Spring, I had stayed on the more conservative side of Night Court attire. Though it had been a relief to return to the ordinary comfort of pants.

The bodice was covered in woven strands of black lace with ornate, shimmery black detailing covering parts of my chest, arms, and stomach. The neckline, wide at the top, slimmed down to a vee that showed a mere sliver of skin a few inches above my bellybutton. The flowing black skirt sported a single high slit.

Small, ornate braids twined in my hair – Nuala’s work - while the rest flowed freely down my back. I had let her apply red lipstick and eye makeup to complete the look, but the finishing touch was the lapis lazuli diadem she had placed on my head. I truly looked the part of a formidable ambassador of Night. 

I looked at the clock. Twenty minutes until I was due to meet Rhys. I sank down into the chair by the window that gave me a perfect view of Velaris, careful not to wrinkle the gown.  
Outside, the daytime activities were wrapping up as the sun began to sink lower into the horizon. Mothers called their children in for supper, workers hurried home. I could hear the faint sound of a lute a few blocks away.

I wondered what the fae mother who had abandoned me so long ago would say about me now. If she had known even as she abandoned my unsuspecting, mortal father what I was to become. Nesta and Elain would have certainly been shocked. Their outcast, unwanted half-sister, lounging in Prythian’s most feared court. 

Perhaps one day, I would return to the human lands, try to reconcile with my sisters. But not now. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to put it off forever. Far too soon they would wither with age while I remained young and immortal.

I would do it, I vowed. Just not today.  
Standing, I took last one look at my form in the mirror and strode down the staircase. Rhys was waiting, hands tucked into his pockets. I watched him as his eyes traveled up my form – something like desire hidden in their depths. “You look absolutely delicious, darling. I fear the other courts may fall to their knees at the sight of you.”

I raised my brows. “Someone, it seems, has good taste.”

“I knew you’d like the mask.”

“I was referring to Cerridwen’s suggestion of the dress, actually.”

“You wound me, Feyre.” He sighed theatrically.

I smiled a bit. “You seem to be keeping your look on brand. But no mask?” Indeed, he was dressed in black pants and an elaborate black tunic laced with silver thread, his favored crown of ravens’ feathers on his head. His face, however, remained bare. 

He twitched his fingers, a mask appearing in his hand. “I thought I’d give you one last look at my face before I covered it up.” 

I snorted as he twirled the mask between his fingers, brandishing it before he placed it on his face. It was black, with detailing of the same coloring etched over top.

Between the crown and the mask, he truly looked like the Lord of Nightmares, though I knew better as he held out his arm for me.

Taking it, I breathed in the scent of Velaris one last time before Rhys winnowed us away.

I clung tightly to his arm as we traveled to the fabric of the universe, stopping first at Hewn City. Around a hundred fae waited, looking vaguely unnerved by the sight of their High Lord. I made eye contact with a few, giving them a serpentine smile as I walked past. Scattered amongst the High Fae were a few guards and faeries.  
_“No Kier tonight?”_ I asked down our bond. Rhys’s shields were enforced more than usual tonight, not even a crack left open.

_“No. He’s throwing a tantrum about it, but he’ll only stir up trouble if he comes with us.”_

Rhys glared out over the wicked courtiers he ruled over. “I expect you all to be on good behavior tonight unless someone would like themselves to find themselves missing an appendage.”  
He paused for a beat before winnowing away, leaving everyone else – including myself, to follow suit. Various fae held onto each other – clearly, not everyone could winnow. Luckily, I wasn’t included in that count as I vanished, pushing through the void to reach my destination. I hadn’t winnowed this far by myself before, and by the time I arrived at the gates of the Mountain, I found myself out of breath. Rhys was already there, giving me a wink a hairsbreadth of a second before the Nightmare Court began to winnow in. Turning around with a flourish, he led us into the base of the Mountain. I walked a few steps behind him with a few other nobles as we had planned.

I had never been to the meeting place of the High Lords, but I could see why it was the only place they could all meet without being too crowded or threatening to destroy something. The mountain was huge – bigger than any of the Steppes. 

Though the entrance had been filled with ornate carvings, the majority of the Mountain’s walls were disappointingly bare, my artist’s eyes noted. 

Down we descended, following the bright torches as they led us into the mountain’s heart. Soon, the passageway led to a set of towering doors. Upon Rhysand’s arrival, two red-skinned faeries pulled open the doors for him, giving way to a brightly lit gathering hall.

A sharply dressed fae announced us as 'High Lord Rhysand and the Night Court', though his voice made little impact in the loud room. Still, many paused to give us a glance - a few recoiled in fear. Not just at Rhys and the Court of Nightmares - but at me.

It was a wide, open space – a wise choice, considering the mighty powers that would soon fill it. Glowing faelight bobbed throughout the room, and below finely roasted food was set out onto tables. Strange, unfamiliar music played in the background. Ornate tapestries that would have taken a mortal lifetime to create adorned the walls, almost as lifelike as the fae who crowded the room in front of me.

Immediately, I scanned the room, looking for the different Courts. Summer, Autumn, Dawn, and Winter had already arrived, members mingling in the crowd. The Spring Court - Tamlin - hadn’t arrived yet. I stiffened at the thought of seeing him again. We hadn’t had any contact since that day I had accepted Rhys’s sanctuary. Did he still love me? Or had that love turned into the boiling rage I knew too well? 

Sensing my thoughts, I felt Rhys brush up against my mental shields reassuringly. It brought my mind back to the task at hand. Amarantha.

I scanned the crowd again, this time looking for the red hair Rhys had described. It didn’t take long. She had positioned herself near the center of the room and was talking to the High Lord of Dawn. The Ever-Blooming Flower wasn’t overwhelmingly beautiful, nor did her features strike a bolt of fear in my heart, though her face was obscured by a golden lioness mask. She wore a long-sleeved, bronze gown that was tight in the hips. A regal sort of beauty. What struck me as out of place was the spiky, golden crown she wore. Though only metal, not jewels, it was a queen’s crown - not a general’s. Rhys turned around to the court behind him, bringing my attention back to him. “Go play.”

For Amarantha, sensing Rhysand’s arrival, had broken away from the throng and was gliding over to us. I could hardly walk away and spend the evening under her radar now, not without her taking it as an insult. It would appear I was to meet the beast head-on.

It was what I had come for. Breathing deeply, I checked my mental shields and looked her in the eyes.


	3. Masquerade

_Feyre_

I needn't have worried about talking with her immediately. Amarantha completely ignored me, turning to Rhysand. I was grateful for it. Let him set the pace while I got a feel for the dance.

“Why, High Lord Rhysand. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.” Her words were silken as she held out a hand. It was an effort not to frown at the eyeball encased on her ring, its erratic movements. “How have things fared in Night?”

It had been thirty years since she had arrived at the Night Court, eager to see what horrors she would behold in Hewn City.

Rhys kissed her hand, his face unfortunately close to that damn ring. Even though I knew it was all a pretense, I had to shove down that unnamed feeling in the pit of my stomach. “The pleasure is mine, General. The Night Court continues to thrive. What of Hybern?” There was no true smile, no humor or sensuous flirtation behind his words. Only the cool Lord of Nightmares remained, a small razorblade smile at the corner of his mouth.

Amarantha smiled again, her attention completely on Rhysand. Perhaps I could have walked away with her none the wiser. But I took the moment to “Hybern is doing quite well. But you and Tamlin are the only ones who haven’t set up alliances with us. What can I say that will get you to change your mind?”

“Must we talk politics so early in the evening? This is a night of revelry.” Cool, calm words.

“Ah, but the evening will only get merrier as we go along.” Her cadence was calm, at ease. If I hadn’t known how she had butchered mortals during the war, how her legion had captured Rhys….how she had tried to woo Tamlin, I likely would have been convinced by her acting.

“In that case, I can only tell you that I will consider it.” Rhys replied.

Her eyes narrowed for only a moment. “The same thing you said last time. And what of Lord Tamlin?”

Rhys shrugged. “I don’t speak for the Lord of Spring. Ask him when he arrives.”

The general raised her eyebrows. “Oh, are things tense between your courts? A pity – though I suppose it makes sense, given the wings pinned in his study. Rather obtrusive things, even the smaller ones take up so much space.”

A sharp lash of rage flew down the bond – the anger Rhys couldn’t hide. Not directed at me. I wanted to strangle her – for what she had done to humans years ago, for what she said now. My hands stiffened at my sides as I struggled to keep them from balling into fists.

Rhys was a more skilled actor, and didn’t even give her a slight frown. “The do-gooders in Spring have always been dull – I rarely associate with them. But I’m on agreeable terms at the moment.” An absolute lie. Tamlin likely wanted to kill Rhys for his supposed kidnapping of me. Rhys likely wanted the same for the atrocities committed to him.

Rhys continued, unbothered. “As for his choice in décor – I don’t particularly concern myself with the design of Tamlin’s manor.”

I brushed a mental hand down the bond, waiting for Rhys to open his shields a crack for me. “ _There were no wings in the study or any of the rooms I was in, Rhys.”_

I could feel his anger lessen, a feeling of thanks traveling down the bond as he closed off his shields again.

Amarantha only raised her eyebrows. “Does Tamlin find himself as forgiving towards you? It was your father who murdered his.”

There it was. The reason Amarantha allegedly held a grudge against Night and had wanted Tamlin so badly. She said it so flippantly, as though Tamlin’s family hadn’t killed Rhys’s mother, father, and sister.

Rhys shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t speak with Tamlin. You’d have to talk to him yourself, General.”

She at last nodded, apparently appeased. Then, she turned her attention to me. “And here I thought I had met all of your court. Who is this?” With her black eyes…. predator’s eyes on me, I felt the shell of fear in my bones again. _You are a wolf._

I made my words smooth and rich, the way I had seem Rhysand do so many times. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, General Amarantha. I’m Feyre, Rhysand’s emissary.” I dipped into a bob of a curtsy, loathing that I had to submit to this vulture.

“The pleasure is mine, darling.” She cooed. “And where are you an emissary to?”

“Wherever Night decides to raise hell, of course.”

Amarantha threw her head back and laughed - no. Not a laugh. It was a raven’s caw that flew from her lips. “I think I like you, Feyre – what family do you belong to?”

“You will find I belong to nobody but myself, General.” I felt Rhys’s amusement down the bond, and if my answer irritated her, she didn’t show it.

“Valspian.” I offered, making it up on the spot. As pleasing as it would have been to give a sarcastic answer, it wasn’t worth the risk of finding about the Archerons. Unless she knew all of Prythian’s surnames, I would be safe.

She smiled slightly. “I’m not familiar with that family. But since you are Rhysand’s emissary, I have no doubt we will be seeing more of each other in the future.”

I mirrored her expression. “Certainly.”

With that, Amarantha turned her attention back to Rhys, not deigning to give me a response. Message clear, I was dismissed. I chose to use it to my advantage rather than letting the slight get to me. Better for her to underestimate me, to think I was merely another official to be forgotten.

I spent the next hour flitting between politicians, throwing meaningless phrases out as they tried to coax information out of me. Most wanted to know about Rhys, but some…. some wanted to know just what had transpired between me and Tamlin. At one point I was cornered by a fuming Winter Lord. He demanded to know why we had turned down his requests for trade, what we were hiding.

 _Everything._ I thought.

I resisted the urge to curse and tell them off, instead laughing and spouting some coy phrase.

Eventually, the Day Court arrived, bringing a sizable entourage led by Lord Julius. Prythian’s oldest High Lord, known for his solemn disposition and wisdom. A man of the people who frequently shunned the benefits of a life of wealth. Indeed, he was dressed in a robe the color of parchment that reminded me of ones worn by scholars. The gold embroidery on its sleeves and collar was the only sign of its lavish make.

Julius wasn’t one of excess, and it seemed that a majority of the court attempted to replicate that look. Either because of their own beliefs or to follow him, I couldn’t tell. His couriers seemed to revolve around him in a way. Nothing was done without his approval. The master they respected and answered to.

Though the Day entourage was surprisingly somber, it didn’t put a damper on the rest of the celebrations. Members from all courts mingled, and the Court of Nightmares had been behaving all evening. As the night wore on, the music grew louder – and then the seventh Court arrived.

It looked as though Tamlin had brought the manor’s entire staff, along with all the nobility. Indeed, as I ran through the list of nobles I knew in my head, I found every face in the crowd, recognizable even with the masks.

I avoided looking directly at Tamlin, instead focusing on Lucien, who stood by his right side. He wore a fox mask that covered most of his face, including the majoring of the puckered, red scarring. The price he had paid for delivering Tamlin’s refusal. But I could see that he still had two eyes – though one was different, with almost unnatural movements. Interesting. I couldn’t read Lucien’s face – cool, disinterested, perhaps. And on Tamlin’s left side….

Ianthe.

Unlike everyone else, her face was bare, though shadowed by her raised hood. It was an effort not to snort. I had spent enough time listening to her self-praising, sanctimonious spiels enough times to guess what sort of excuse she had concocted to avoid covering her face.

My eyes finally drifted to him.

Unlike the other denizens of Spring, his mouth was a grim line. He wore a golden mask – one that was the same color and Amarantha’s. It was an effort to stay where I was as the court dispersed, Amarantha greeting him. Yet somehow, I couldn’t turn away as I watched the two embrace, Tamlin stiff the whole time. It stirred up a feeling in me I couldn’t name. Not anger, certainly not jealousy, but….

He was the male I had loved for so long, so desperately, until that love turned sour. I didn’t love him anymore, didn’t feel any kind of passion at all after what he had done to me. He had been good, been Tamlin until…. until he wasn’t.

I finally let myself turn away from him, engage myself in conversation with a young lady from Dawn who wore a fawn mask. One of the few people I had spoken with who didn’t have an ulterior motive. No, she seemed content to idly chatter away.

She frowned at my pause. “What’s the matter?” She asked.

I nodded, angling myself away from the Spring delegation. “Nothing. I only recognized someone in the crowd. You were saying?”

Eventually, I excused myself, wending through the crowd and dodging a couple passionately kissing against the wall, their breathing heavy. I made my way to a waiter who carried flutes of bubbling champagne on a tray. Unlike mortal drinks, they sparkled a thousand different colors, the rainbow contained in a drop. Though I had earlier promised myself I would stay sober…. drinking would help me blend in anyway. But a few feet before I reached my goal, my path was blocked by a burly figure.

My breath caught as I met his eyes. I had forgotten so many things about Tamlin. The shine of his eyes in the light, the exact color of the hair I would never again try to paint. Though his ever-present bandolier of knives still gleamed. Leave it to him to come to a ball armed – he didn’t know there were far deadlier weapons in the room.

Perhaps he had forgotten parts of me too, or maybe he was shocked at how I had changed. I was no longer the weak girl banging on the manor’s windows, begging to get out. I saw him look me up and down, taking me in. My newfound strength, and the tattoo on my arm I no longer wore gloves to hide. “What has he done to you, Feyre?” He hissed.

I furrowed my brow. “He hasn’t done anything, Tamlin. Did you expect me to remain the same after you locked me up, left me to drown? You killed the mortal-raised girl you knew, and this – “I gestured to myself. “Is what remains.”

I forced myself to shut out the memory of him walking away as I screamed behind him, begging to get out. How I had pushed myself into darkness until Mor had carried me away.

“Feyre. Come home with me tonight. I know I did some things I shouldn’t have – we both did. I can take you to the Day Court, get them to break whatever curse Rhys is holding over your head. I am willing to call in any debt, make any bargain. I will kill Rhys for that he’s – “His coaxing turned dark in a way I was all too familiar with.

I shook my head, cutting him off. “I told you once, Tamlin. I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me. But I am not that person anymore, and if you threaten the Night Court again, I won’t hesitate to return your threats and deliver.”

He narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by Amarantha’s smooth voice.

“I would like to take a moment to thank all you for being here tonight.” She stood on a raised platform in the center of the room, holding a flute of champagne. A small, tipsy titter escaped through her lips. Around the room, everyone quieted down, the music coming to a sharp halt.

It was time for the toast. I needed to find Rhys. Turning away from Tamlin, I started to step away – only for his hand to close around my wrist.

I whirled back around, every muscle tense. His grip was tight and unyielding, and my hands had balled to fists at my sides. I would not let myself shake.

“This isn’t over, Feyre.” He said softly, hand tightening. A few fae nearby glanced at us, gazes ranging from concerned to amused. They still saw me as his pet, in need of coddling.

“Yes, it is.” I hissed, voice even. I opened my fisted hand, palm open, and wrenched my arm away from him. The simplest of the self-defense moves Cassian had taught me.

I turned away before he could try anything else, not letting myself breath until I knew the crowd had swallowed him up. I pushed my way through the crowd, trying not to look too hurried. Finally, my eyes landed on Rhys. He was a spot of darkness against the vivid extravagance of the evening, standing by one of the huge, carved pillars.

Snatching a glass of wine from one of the bored-looking waiters, I sauntered through the crowd and made my way over to him.

“These last fifty years have passed in the blink of an eye thanks to the hospitality of everyone in the room. It is my greatest hope that Prythian and Hybern will be able to begin a new chapter in harmony.” Her eyes gleamed.

Rhys held a glass as well, appearing to be entirely focused on Amarantha’s words. I reached out to his mind, slipping in through the crack left open for me.

Amarantha continued. “My hope, and the king’s as well. He sends his finest wines for us to feast on tonight, to delight in the bounties of his lands. More shipments will arrive in the following weeks, and it is my understanding that Prythian will send off theirs as well.”

Rhys reached out to me. “ _I’m working on getting through her shields.”_ His voice was strained, distracted. “ _She’s placed more shielding on herself than I anticipated, especially considering she isn’t a daemati. If she looks suspicious, find some way to distract her.”_

“We have made such progress, and I am so thankful you have given me a chance to make amends for my actions.”

Though her words were light, her hand drifted up to stroke the bone necklace she wore. Perhaps not so tipsy after all. Had she noticed Rhys’s maneuverings?

But she only continued on with her speech. ““It has been my pleasure to meet so many of you, and I hope we all get to know each other even better in the years to come.”

_“Rhys, are you making any progress?”_

“ _These shields …. it’s like tunneling through sand. When I think I’ve broken through them, more await. Hybern’s likely spelled her with something from his book.”_ His voice was quieter than before.

“ _Rhys, do not lose yourself to her mind.”_

 _“I can tell I’m making progress.”_ Softer yet, fading.

“ _RHYS._ ” I shouted his name, pulled on that mental bond to bring him back. “ _I don’t need you getting lost trying to get through her shields. It’s not worth it.”_

Physically, his hand twitched as he came back to his senses.

Around us, the air seemed to grow heavy, something hanging over us all that I couldn’t decipher.

 _“I was getting close, Feyre. I’m not wasting the opportunity.”_ Words sharp, stilted.

I could tell that he was going to go in again, make another attempt. My instinct screamed at me to help him but – it was a risk.

Amarantha looked around. “I’d like to offer a toast. To beginning a new chapter.” She raised her glass, and at that moment seemed to glow with some sort of ungodly power.

Rhys inhaled sharply, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Casting my mind, my power across the room. I reached for Amarantha’s shields.

Externally, everyone raised their glasses, champagne sparkling under the bobbing faelight. “To beginning a new chapter.” Rhys and I both spoke the words, somehow of a volition that didn’t quite seem our own. 

I lifted the glass to my lips, tasting the alcohol as it went down.

I reached out to touch her shields –

Then – a flash of light and I was yanked out of her mind.

* * *

_Rhysand_

It was as if something inside of me had _shattered,_ that thing that kept I could feel something pulling at my power, ripping the magic away.

Shit. _Shit._ There had been some dark magic at work, some curse to entrap us here.

I stumbled forward a bit as I was pushed out of Amarantha’s shields. _She was taking our power._

The flute slipped through my fingers, and I could distantly feel the champagne splash onto my pants as the glass blossomed into a thousand pieces onto the floor.

I fought to bring my concentration back to the surface. My magic was slipping away like water down the drain, leaving me feeling light-headed. I fought back against that unstoppable pull, trying to halt it, but the power slipped through my fingers as though I had no control over it at all. Shouts of confusion and horror rang out, six other High Lords experiencing the same thing.

“Rhys?” Feyre spoke out loud, words frantic. “What’s going on?”

I couldn’t answer her, too distracted. She was taking our power. The power that would protect Velaris, keep my people safe.

I cast my magic out like a spear as far as I could, and it hurt in a way it never had before, the pain like flames licking at my bones, but it reached back to Velaris. Even as my magic was tearing away from me, I reinforced the wards, fortifying them so no evil could breach those walls. Magic of this strength needed a tether, so I reached for the four souls I trusted more than anyone else, save the one beside me.

_“Amarantha had cursed us and taken our power. Protect Velaris and do not leave the city. I love all of you.”_

It had only been a few seconds, but I could feel it breaking away, tearing something vital inside of me. My voice, my very soul, joined the symphony of screams that begged for it to stop but –

All at once, the fire raging through me burned out. Leaving a husk of the mighty magic that had once resided in my veins. I might as well have been an Illyrian youth, powers bound for the Blood Rite.

I was heaving deep breaths, my arms braced on a table. As the world around me came back into focus, I heard Feyre calling my name. Nearby, Thesan stood with his fingers bracing his forehead, reaching for his missing power.

Above it all, that wicked caw of a deceiver’s laugh.


	4. Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some mention of gore, so proceed at your own risk! I hate writing things like that so I didn't go into too much detail.  
> This chapter is much longer than I would have liked, and the other chapters won't be this long. But I hope you enjoy it!

All around us, chaos bloomed. The High Lords had lost control. Rhys was braced on a table, Calder looked as though he might throw up, complexion paler than usual. I grabbed Rhys’s arm and tried to winnow, but to no avail. Heavy wards stood in the way, and it felt like slamming into a stone wall.  
  
My magic – it didn’t feel right. I still had it, but it felt much farther away, like there was a pit I had to cross to access it. But clearly, whatever I was feeling, Rhys was going through worse. He had stood up straight, his face drawn and pale.  
  
“ _What’s going on, Rhys?_ ” I asked down the bond, voice panicked.  
  
_“Are you alright?”_ He replied evenly. “ _You still have all your magic?”_  
  
“ _It feels strange, far away….but it’s still there._ ” I dared summon a kernel of darkness in my palm, to ensure I could still use it. It bloomed in my palm, but reaching for the magic was no longer easy as breathing. It felt as if I was stretching a muscle I rarely used. “ _Why? What has she done?”_  
  
“ _She cursed the drinks, activated it with the toast. We – the High Lords - were prone and she snatched our powers from our bodies. I can barely feel any of my magic.”_  
  
The shock was written on my face. “ _This could go very badly. It already has. I couldn’t get through her shields in time.”_  
  
_“Stop blaming yourself, Rhys. Not everything is your fault._ ” I fired back. “ _There’s time to fix this. Will you be alright?”_  
  
_“Vulnerability isn’t an expense I can afford right now.”_  
  
In the moments Rhys and I had spent conversing, violence had begun to spark. I turned toward the center of the room where Amarantha stood, pulsing with dark power. Chaos flew around her as the fae began to pull out their weapons at the orders of their High Lords. But they were countered by Amarantha’s red-skinned guards, who had appeared in the blink of an eye. They used weapons I wasn’t familiar with – sharp, heavy blades. Enough to gut a man in one swoop. My blood sang to join the fight.  
  
Not looking at Rhys, I darted to the side of the room where a discarded sword lay. Someone had already disarmed a Hybernian soldier - a thought that gave me some measure of hope.  
  
The sword was heavy in my grip, the balance unfamiliar. Military quality. Who knew how efficient I would be? But the only other weapon I bore was a dagger strapped to my side, and it would be useless here. The odds technically weren't in my favor. I was slower and weaker than a full-blooded faerie. But I made up for it by watching and listening - much could be gained by listening to the footfalls of the person you fought against.   
  
I steadied my grip on the sword and formed a shield around me. It wasn’t as strong as I would have liked, but Rhys and I had focused more on mental shields than physical ones. It would do for today.  
  
Bearing the sword, I darted into the fray. Amarantha’s lackeys mainly attacked those who fought back, ignoring those cowering from the fray. But I didn’t have to search long for an opponent – a guard thrust himself into my path, yellowed teeth clicking.  
  
He brought his sword down in a sharp arc, the steel whistling through the air. It was headed for my stomach, but I sidestepped and parried, blocking the blow. A few moves later, he was disarmed. And I swept on to my next opponent. He attacked a young High Fae who was woefully poor at swordplay, fumbling with the ceremonial blade at his side.  
  
Though my dress’s skirt was loose and airy with that dangerously high slit, it still got in the way to the point where I was missing easy attacks. And it wasn’t armor – my arms and legs had several small cuts on them. I had worked my way to the center of the room where Amarantha stood, scanning the scene with satisfaction. I knew we were losing.  
  
Besides the guards, I had also spotted a few gray-clad figures in the crowd. They wore thin armor, and masks that obscured their faces. Deadlier than the others, their movements quicker and more precise, they cut down everyone in their path.  
  
A pause in the fighting gave me a moment to unstrap my dagger, and I started to saw through the black, gauzy material of my skirt. But before I got halfway, a guard whirled on me.  
  
Not just any guard – one of the gray ones.  
  
My sword was unprepared, my dagger the only thing I held. Crying out as the blade hissed through the air in an arc for my neck, I sent my magic out like a spear. Gripping his mind – rendering him immobile.  
  
I raised my hand and gripped it into a fist. He fell to the ground with a dull thud.  
  
“Daemati.” I raised my head, to see Amarantha watching me, smiling. “We’ll chat later, you and I. Not just another courier of Night, Feyre Valspian.”  
  
I didn’t respond. It was an effort to remain indifferent, to turn myself back to a whirlwind of blades and shortness of breath. Shit. Who knew what she would now that she knew I could read minds, who she would try to make me betray?  
  
The tide of guards was ceasing as it became clear that we were defeated. Many were collapsed on the floor, others gripping injuries. Some were held at swordpoint by the guards. Despite my victories, this was not a fight we would win. I turned to the center of the room where Amarantha stood, pulsing with dark power.  
  
“Give them their power!” Someone shouted. Another fae whipped out a dagger, thrusting themselves towards Amarantha, but she deflected with a lash of her power that sent him sprawling across the ground. Unconscious at best.  
  
A pale shield had formed in a bubble around her. I sent a tendril of power towards her mind, ignoring the strain. But I wasn’t met with the extensive shields Rhys had described. Instead, there was an inky blackness. As if there was nothing, no way I could penetrate her mind. I prodded around, but to no avail. She had protected herself with a spell.  
  
I drew away from her, watching the scene around us unfold.  
  
The High Lord of Summer, Nostrus, advanced on her next. I could tell by the way his body was contorting that he was trying to shift, but with no success. I thought I could see two horns begin to protrude from his head, but they were shoved back in, leaving dark splotches of blood that ran down his face. The waves of magic he sent crashing towards Amarantha’s shield were considerably weaker than they should have been. Feeble bolts of ice joined him from Calder. Winter’s young High Lord, brash and inexperienced.  
  
The bolts made no mark, even as others rushed at her. Julius sent a gust of wind beneath himself, coming towards her from above, but she pulled her hand into a fist, and the magic just….stopped. Julius fell to the ground, managing to brace his hands beneath himself to avoid completely crashing. Farther back, one of his most trusted officials, Helion Spell-Cleaver, stood. A ball of light glowed his hands and shone on his face, eyes closed in concentration. Perhaps he would be able to break the curse.  
  
Amarantha lashed out again, but still, there was no real anger behind the actions. A sharp blade of cruelty and viciousness, but not true rage. Not yet. Her eyes shone behind her mask, a cat playing with her dinner. Even as Tamlin and Thesan hurtled themselves towards the general, her expression didn’t change.  
  
Rhys had taken on a darkness I hadn’t yet seen from him. I could see talons forming at his hands. Fully forming, unlike Nostrus’s horns. I could see his mind whirring, picking the best approach. Daemati attacks held no power. One of his usual tricks, when we sparred, was to cast darkness upon everything…but that would put the others at a disadvantage.  
  
He stalked forward, lances of darkness sharper than steel reaching out, cutting against her shields.  
  
But they made no dent. With every hit he made, only a shadow remained – the echo of his own power that he fought against. The power that had been stolen from him.  
  
Faster and faster his blows grew. Dark, monstrous shadows that seemed alive. The strain wore on him more than usual, and she hadn’t even broken a sweat.  
  
I seized the opportunity to reach for her mind, looking for the mental walls that would surely be up. But they were….foggy. Murky, as if very far away. I couldn’t reach them, no matter what I did.  
  
As I withdrew from her mind, Rhys’s blows reached a climax and then – stopped.  
  
In a second, as if they had never been. The other high lords whipped their heads to him in shock. As if they had hoped what manner of power he bore would be enough.  
  
Rhys merely raised his eyebrows, a chess opponent merely accepting he was to lose his king.  
  
_“Why?”_ I asked.  
  
“ _We don’t stand a chance against her. If we’re going to be in this situation for a while, it’s best not to make an enemy of her.”_  
  
_“Surely there is something we can do.”_  
  
_“No. Even those blows…..they took so much of my power.”_  
  
Tamlin hurled himself towards her one last time – I could tell it would be the last, as beaten as he was.  
  
She barely had to push him away with her shields before he sank to his knees, defeated. If the situation hadn’t been so awful, I might have felt some smug satisfaction that he finally bowed.  
  
Amarantha strutted toward him, twirling a jeweled dagger in her palm. Then, in a split second, she flashed forward, holding the weapon to his throat.  
  
My breath caught.  
  
“So you kneel before me at last, Tamlin.” Amarantha mocked, voicing the sentiment I had half-thought. The entire room had gone silent, all eyes on the dagger she held to his throat. I could see the fear glistening in his eyes – and she could too, for she scorned it. “Come now, Tamlin. I’m not going to slit your throat. What fun would that be?” Smiling, raised the dagger to his cheek, where she cut above his jawline, leaving a wound several inches long. Blood welled and fell. The dagger had been ash, it would take a while to heal and likely scar.  
  
Tamlin snarled, eyes flashing. She laughed and turned her back to him, sauntering over to a grand throne that had appeared on the pedestal. The back was easily six feet tall and covered in lush red fabric. The rest of it appeared to be made of bright, gaudy gold. She sat down slowly, eyes sweeping the scene. Red-skinned soldiers pinned some fae to the ground, others lay motionless on the floor. Furniture had been broken, and food and champagne covered the floor. One of the pillars holding the room up had a crack in it. Tamlin had gotten back to his feet, walking back to his place beside Lucien.  
  
Beron broke the silence. “What the hell is going on, Amarantha?”  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “You will refer to me as “My Queen,” Beron. That goes for everyone. But I’m glad you asked. These past years Hybern had been in a benevolent mood. He’s forgotten his grudges with Prythian, but I have not. He refuses to take you when this land is so ripe for the picking, so I took it upon myself to do it.”  
  
Horror dawned on me as I realized what was happening, just what she planned to do now that she had removed the High Lords from the picture.  
  
“High Queen of Prythian certainly does have a nice ring to it. And I’ll go down as the first female to rule Prythian.”  
  
It struck a chord in me, a reminder of an argument with Tamlin I had all those months ago. There are no high ladies. He had said. It made me wonder if Rhysand would ever crown one, break the rules as he so frequently did.  
  
“There has never been any High Queens because only High Lords can carry the power of our lands.” Calder hissed, brash and impertinent as always.  
  
“Ah, but that’s not true anymore, is it? As you all just demonstrated, you are no longer in full possession of your own powers. I shall call myself whatever I please. And you will be my loyal servants.”  
  
A Peregryne general stepped out of the throng. “Amarantha, this is madness. If you do not tread carefully you will find the wrath of Prythian is hard to come by and hard to be rid of.”  
  
She scoffed. “More empty threats? This is getting dull. If one of you is going to make an earnest attempt to kill me, actually do it.”  
  
Dull for her…. and dangerous for the rest of us. Her eyes spoke of hunger for bloodshed, for pain and cruelty.  
  
“Don’t you worry. Though you will all soon know what it is to bow to me, a true Queen of the realm, I’ll allow all you High Lords to keep your titles. To be…ambassadors of these lands. Doesn’t that sound splendid?”  
  
“I’d rather die than let the Deceiver rule us,” Calder spoke again. Off to the side, one of his advisors tensed up.  
  
Amarantha tsked. “So brash. But that can be arranged.”  
  
My heartbeat was a booming drum that hadn’t slowed in my chest, the words growing clearer with every beat. Danger. Danger. Danger. I didn’t know how Rhys could do it, how he could be so indifferent when it took every bit of my will to remind myself that I was a wolf, even in this room of predators older and perhaps wiser than me.  
  
The Deceiver, as Calder had aptly named her, beckoned the Winter Lord near, her eyes pools of black.  
  
Calder’s anger only grew. “You do not command me.”  
  
“Oh, but I do. You do not disrespect me.”  
  
“Hybern lost the last war they took part in. Are you so foolish to try us again so soon?”  
  
Soon – as if four and a half centuries were merely the blinks of an eye. Perhaps for immortals, they were.  
  
Amarantha shook her head. “You’re in no position to be making threats, darling. Consider this wisely.” Calder toed a dangerous line.  
  
“Enough of this, Calder. Save it for another day.” The same advisor I had noticed earlier spoke up, voice unwavering.  
  
Calder turned around, and something unspoken passed between the two. He turned back to the throne she sat at.  
  
“Apologies, My Queen. You will rule benevolently and justly, I am sure.”  
  
She stared at him, eyes boring right through him. “Kneel.”  
  
He dropped to his knees, hitting the floor with a thump.  
  
Her fingers twitched, and a wall of pressure bent him lower. His head hitting the red marble flooring, and his bank was bowed. It contrasted in a way that I could have painted – not that I wanted to.  
  
If I was lucky, one day this night would be a far, far off memory.  
  
As glad I was that Calder wasn’t to be splattered on the walls, part of me despaired to see him bow before her.  
  
She smiled. “You are forgiven. For now.” Calder forgotten, she raised her hand in front of her, watching Jurian’s eye. “The fun is just beginning, old friend.”  
  
“For while he is forgiven, I have some vengeances to exact.”  
  
The temperature in the room spiked, and I stole a glance at Rhys, already knowing his face would be unreadable. But it didn’t take a genius to realize that she was truly out for blood now.  
  
I dared to use my magic to create a shield around us. Perhaps mine would keep us better than one Rhys could make since his powers now betrayed him. As an afterthought, I spread a thin layer of enchantments over the rest of the Court. Not much, but better than nothing.  
  
She surveyed the crowd as if picking out who she would destroy first.  
  
She singled out Julius’s brood – particularly a group older High Fae who all wore heavy golden cuffs.  
  
“ _Some of Julius’s greatest scholars. They dedicate their entire lives to learning.”_  
  
Julius opened his mouth. “Please –“  
  
She twisted her hand, and shrieks of terror rang out from the scholars.  
  
Another twist and they fell to the ground, dead. Around twenty ancient fae, with the knowledge of worlds, murdered.  
  
As I looked closer, I could see that their eyes were gone.  
  
She was fucking psychotic. We were going to be picked off until we were weak and helpless.  
  
_“Rhys –“_  
  
_“I know.”_  
  
She moved on to the Summer Court, killing a group of ambassadors. Winter took a seemingly random hit, but a seer among them.  
  
She had learned who we were, exactly what would hurt, in these fifty years.  
  
Each Court took their losses until blood ran thick on the floor, my shoes covered in it. The stink of death had filled the air. I couldn’t look anywhere without seeing faces of death – and I wasn’t the only one. I heard people retching all around me amidst the screams of terror.  
  
Still, none of us ran. None of us had time to protest. We were all marionettes dangling from her strings.  
  
Finally, only Spring and Night hadn’t been touched.  
  
She would go for the Court of Nightmares, they were the only ones who had come. I didn’t know who she had met during her stay, who she would target.  
  
Amarantha turned to Rhys, not a hair out of place despite the blood she had spilled. Dread curled in my stomach, heaving its way into my throat.  
  
“The Night Court seems to always remain unscathed. Your father refused to parley with Hybern, and so do you. It’s time Night learned what it is to bleed.”  
  
I could feel Rhys tense, and he added extra shielding around us.  
  
She slashed her hand through the air, and before I could blink, my flimsy defenses were ripped through and I heard bodies fall to the floor with a dull thud.  
  
I whirled around, a hairsbreadth after Rhys. What I saw – sixty Night Court members, throats slashed. Nobles, guards, servants. Slaughtered. All of this bloodshed dealt to our court and the others to prove she could. To prove she would rule us body and soul.  
  
I willed myself not to shake, Feyre Valspian does not shake.  
  
I had known none of them well, and though most of them were likely wicked and would have usurped Rhys if given the chance – it was a blow. The only mercy was that their deaths had been quick.  
  
I had been too wrapped up in my own shock to see Rhys’s initial reaction, but he was now the picture of indifference as he had been all evening.  
  
“Consider us even, then.” He said.  
  
As if it had been Rhys’s fault his father had murdered Tamlin. As if there was any wrongdoing on Rhys’s part. It made my blood boil in their veins.  
But he would do anything to protect his court. I knew that already.  
At last, she turned back to Calder, skipping over Spring. Perhaps she considered her earlier mutilation of Lucien punishment enough.  
  
“And you.” Her lip curled. “Did you think you could disrespect me as you did and get away with it? Did you think my patience extended that far?”  
  
He walked forward without shaking, though the color had left his face. “As I said, I would sooner die than bow before a false queen.”  
  
She smiled. “Than death, it must be.”  
  
I flinched as she tore into him, trying to block out the scream and the snap of bone and tendon.  
  
Someone else in the crowd screamed – a lover, a sibling, a friend? Who was she taking him from?  
  
_“CALDER!”_ I recognized that shout – the advisor from earlier. Her scream could have brought down the sky. She tried to go to him, only to be held back by other members of her entourage, tears spilling down their cheeks.  
  
Watching this wasn’t something I could bear. I hadn’t been born into this, into this land of slaughter and faerie politics. I stepped imperceptibly closer to Rhys, so our arms brushed, and focused on a random pillar in front of me, the swirling carvings that formed a pattern.  
  
“Look at him.” I was not the only one looking away.  
  
“ _LOOK AT HIM._ ” She thundered. “This is the fate of anyone – anyone who disobeys me.”  
  
I forced my eyes to rise, to watch the grim scene. I was going to throw up, I couldn’t watch this. That she could do this to a High Lord, ripping past all his defenses –  
  
_“Breathe.”_ Rhys’s voice filled my head, cool and calm. A balm to the ugly scar of all I had seen tonight, all I would see. It made me wonder again at all the great and terrible things he had seen, for him to see this and remain undaunted.  
  
Air hissed through my clenched teeth, and though I made my eyes glaze over, I knew I would never stop hearing the screams that ripped through the chamber for minutes on end.  
  
And yet – she still would not end it. “Remove him. We will continue this another time – the night grows old.”  
  
The advisor thrashed after him, her throat broken from screaming for him.  
  
I made myself watch as two of the guards dragged him out, brought back to consciousness by Amarantha. The heavy doors slammed shut as they left the room, leaving an abyss of silence in their wake.  
  
She looked out to us all again. “As I have made clear, I have no problem with reducing you High Lords to nothing. But it doesn’t have to be this way.” Her gaze rested on Tamlin, who had finally stopped bleeding. “I will entrap none beneath this mountain – all I have is one teensy, tiny condition.”  
  
She beckoned a curling finger to Tamlin. “I left Spring untouched as a gesture of good faith. If Lord Tamlin will join my side as my consort, I will allow you all to go home tonight. I will stay here as High Queen, but no blood will be spilled. I will slacken my hold on your powers, and trade with my country will continue. All Tamlin has to do –” She cocked her head to the side. “Is say yes.”

Tamlin spat at her. “I have no interest in being your slave, bitch.”  Maybe the months and distance had made me forget him, but I couldn’t tell if he was truly this stubborn or merely intent on bargaining more. But deals had never been his specialty. Not like they were to the Lord beside me. 

She didn’t frown. “Allow me to make myself clearer.  If you agree, Tamlin, Prythian can still have its High Lords, its ancient traditions continued. If you say no…..I will find myself inclined to make other arrangements.”

_“Why does she lust after him like this?”_ I asked Rhys.

“ _They have known each other since Tamlin was a youth – Amarantha is far, far older. No doubt she saw something in him she liked and has_ _ been fixated  on it for a while now.”_

“I would suffer for a thousand years before I took your hand.” He snarled. And I knew then. He had no intent to try to bargain to save us all. No intent to do anything else but refuse.

Eris stepped forward from his place beside one of his brothers, dipping his head. “Lord Tamlin knows not whom he rebukes. I would gladly take your side instead.” Interesting. The Autumn Court had cozied up to her quickly. Did they intend to manipulate her, or did they truly believe she would lead us well?

But Amarantha shook her head. “I requested Tamlin, and I will have him or none at all.” Eris dipped his head, wordlessly sinking back into the crowd. She tapped her sharp nails on the throne’s arm. “What can I say to get you to accept my offer? Is there someone else who holds your heart?"

“There is no one. But it wouldn’t matter if there was because I would sooner choose a human, choose to marry a human, than you.

Amarantha hissed, eyes fiery.

“Even Clythia preferred a human’s company to yours. After she chose Jurian over you, my rejection should have no sting.” He growled.

It had been the wrong thing to say. I could feel Rhys tense up beside me, bracing for what was to come.

Amarantha stood, reaching out a hand as she prepared to strike, and I couldn’t help but cringe, prepared to see Tamlin murdered in the most gruesome way possible. I wouldn’t have wished it on even him.

But she took a breath and lowered her hand, shaking her head. “Killing you would be too soft a punishment.” She slammed her hands down into the arms of the chair, forcing herself to sit again.

I turned my eyes to Lucien, fearing he would again be the recipient of her wrath. But she wasn’t looking at him – wasn’t looking anywhere but Tamlin.

“And I am in a generous mood tonight.” She paused as if contemplating. “So I will give you a way out of the curse I have stolen your powers with. If you can break it, you can have your powers back. But if not…..I  shall  claim you.”

“What.” Tamlin hissed through his teeth.

“I will keep the other High Lords under the mountain – but I will allow you, Tamlin – and your Court – to leave. All you have to do to break the curse is to find a human girl willing to marry you.”

“That’s it?” Tamlin said in disbelief.

Surely there was more coming. All it would take was one of the Children of the Blessed wandering over the wall for the curse to be broken.

“Oh, but not any girl. A human girl, no older than twenty, with an icy heart. One as icy as the treatment you have just given me. She must have a hatred for our kind, deep enough that she would kill a faerie for its mere existence.” Another pause.  “To make it more interesting, let’s say that whatever faerie she kills must be one of your sentries sent across the wall. Killed in cold blood, just as Jurian did to my sister. So you can…understand her pain. I will give you a true heart made of stone, to match the way you act now.  Perhaps you'll be more open to my original proposition when this business is done.”

She looked down at her awful ring. “The wheel is coming full circle, Jurian.” The eyeball twitched, moving more erratically than before.

“You will bring the girl to your manor, and you will make her fall in love with you. She must say the words – must tell you she loves you, and mean it with her whole heart.”

Tamlin looked horrified, and I knew it would destroy him – to send his own men to the slaughter, to know that he was the one responsible for sending them to their deaths. That he was the one who would give the order.

A wicked grin spread across her face. “Yes, I quite like this idea. Humans have an obsession with beauty – so you and your entire Court will be unable to remove the masks. From this moment forward, they will  be attached  to your faces.”

Indeed, I saw a faerie pulling at his mask in my peripheral. It didn't budge, as if it was part of his skin.

Her plan was brilliant - cruel, but brilliant. Tamlin would be torturing himself just as badly as if suffering under Amarantha's knife himself. She would destroy his spirit and then claim the broken scraps. It was enough to make me pity him - nobody deserved such a fate.

“How long will I have?”

“The last war lasted for seven years – Jurian plotted his betrayal for seven years. So you will have seven times seven years to break the curse. If you fail, don’t forget – I will claim you. Do we have a bargain?”

Tamlin hesitated, and for a moment I thought he would refuse. That he would actually be that selfish. But he raised his chin and met her gaze. “We have a bargain.”

"Good." I shuddered. Tamlin offered us a slim shot at salvation, but I couldn't help to feat that the worst was yet to come. 

"None of you will speak a word of this to any human. Not of my spells, or of my little bargain with Tamlin. Not a single detail."  

I shuddered. The poor girl would have no idea what she was getting herself into. Tamlin's words had offered us a slim shot at salvation. But we could be trapped down here, in this unfeeling dark, for longer than I had been alive.

I thought back to the last time I had seen the stars. Looking out on them from my balcony, watching as the first few emerged above Velaris.

When would I again?


	5. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that it's taken so long to update! These last months have been insanely busy. This chapter contains very strong implications and mentions of rape, please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable!!

She had us by the balls.

We were trapped here, and utterly at her mercy. I knew there had been no real point slaughtering those couriers, no reason beyond showing what she could do.

I knew most of them had despised me.

And I would mourn them still.

But better for their blood to coat the floor than Velaris’s. Hewn City had always been the front with which I protected what was most precious. The Court of Dreams would take care of the city and protect it, even if it drove them mad. I knew they had received my message, but I had pulled away before I could hear their replies.

“You all should find quarters to stay in and retire for the evening. You’ll be down here for a long time, and I won’t have you all staying uncomfortably.” She mocked. “Tamlin is welcome to set out whenever he likes.”

“The Spring Court leaves now,” Tamlin growled, murder blazing in his eyes. Claws grew from his hands – and Amarantha, curiously, let them be. Lucien gave the order to round up servants from his side. His frown wasn’t concealed by his mask – though both were reminiscent of a fox. The face he would wear for forty-nine years.

I hadn’t seen that variable coming – that she would play this game with Tamlin, drawing it out as she did the cruelest of tortures.

My fault, for not exploring all the ways this gone.

“I’ll see the rest of you in the morning. I have some wonderful plans for our time together!” She chirruped. “And I certainly hope no one develops any little plans about not making an appearance.”

Feyre made eye contact with me, and I took in her appearance for the first time since we had left Velaris only a few hours before. She was disheveled, her delicate brown hair coming undone and half of her gauzy black skirt hacked away at the knee, though she still wore the bat mask.

Granted, I knew I probably looked like hell too. Flakes of blood spotted my jacket and pants.

“ _What now_?” She asked quietly.

 _“We retire, as she wants. There’s nothing we can do right now_.” It angered me more than I wanted to admit.

_“Do you have a plan?”_

_“Velaris is safe. I’ve bound the Circle to the city, and anyone else here with an inkling will find themselves without that memory.”_

_“Good.”_ She didn’t comment on how I had avoided her question. I jerked my head slightly, indicating that we should start walking towards the doors where everyone else hurried.

 _“But there’s no way I’ll be finding any sleep tonight._ ” She almost shuddered, stopping herself.

_“Your acting tonight hasl been excellent, Feyre.”_

_“She knows I’m a daemati, Rhys.”_

_“We both fucked up,”_ I admitted. Me, more than her. Amarantha’s interest in Feyre was exactly the opposite of what I had wanted. I shouldn’t have introduced her in such an important role, I should have disguised her as a servant instead.

We approached the doors, and I noticed a few stares clinging to us like cobwebs. “ _Nuala has found a chamber for you. Go ahead and try to rest_.” I knew the idea sounded absurd. _“I have a few things to attend to first.”_ I knew I didn’t have to remind her to place wardings around her room.

 _“Of course you aren’t retiring.”_ Her mental voice was soft. She turned and exited the room without looking at me again, shoulders back and head held high. Part of me wished I could go and find sleep. Using my magic against Amarantha had taken more of my remaining power than I would ever admit.

I continued to stalk ahead, maintaining that air of arrogance. No one dared approach me, and I found a path cleared for me.

Intimidation, I knew, would continue to serve me well. Set on my path, I turned the corner -

And was faced with Amarantha. This night was already down the drain – but it was obviously about to get worse.

“Rhysand.” She purred. The evening’s events didn’t appear to have taken a toll on her, and not a hair was out of place. She had removed her mask, baring her face.

I dipped my head. “My Queen.” Better to slip into the role right away. It would make everyone believe I had always been a two-faced bastard, but so be it.

She smiled. “I’m so glad to see you’re adjusting to this quickly. I fear others will struggle.”

“Ah, but I know you will guide them well. They will learn who their Queen is in due time.”

“Your faith is much appreciated, Rhysand. No hard feelings about your Court, I hope? I did what was necessary.”

Hard feelings. As if she hadn’t ended those lives without a second thought. But I only smirked. “Dealing with scheming couriers is one of the more irritating parts of my job. You’ve saved me a great deal of work.”

A smile. “Good. I can hardly be responsible for what will happen if my orders aren’t obeyed, not after I’ve given such a fair warning.” She shrugged.

“And do you expect Tamlin to bend the knee again soon?”

“Naturally. It’ll only be a matter of time before he grows tired of living as a shade of himself.” She paused, and I noticed how empty the hall around us was. Nobody wanted to be near Amarantha.

“But in the meantime –“ She placed a hand on her pale chest, Jurian’s eye once again still. “I fear I will grow lonely. So many of my subjects will fear me before they grow to love me.” She took a step closer to me, near enough that I could feel her breath.

And I realized what she wanted.

“Perhaps you are in a similar position. Lord of Nightmares, they call you. Though given your father’s reputation I’m surprised they all fear you so easily.”

Her hand grazed my arm, her pale skin warm.

That was what this was about. Not me, not even Tamlin. But how my father had murdered Tamlin’s.

“I’ve earned my reputation. Surely you’ve heard of all the tortures I’ve inflicted over the years, My Queen.  But if you’ll excuse me, it grows late.”

She shook her head. “You’re High Lord of the Night Court.” Her voice was soft. “Nighttime should be of no consequence to you.”

I opened my mouth to refuse again, but she kept talking. “You made an impressive display against me in the ballroom. I was quite enthralled. You end lives like some give in to sleep.”

“I’ve always taken care to hone my powers.” The only true thing I had said to her during this conversation. I couldn’t decide if she knew it or not.

“Is it frustrating, Rhysand? I’m sure you can find no equal among the High Lords. Nostrus and Beron sit around reveling day and night. Calder is practically a child. Thesan and Julius are so dull. And….of course, we all know you and Tamlin get along.”

“The other High Lords bring me no interest, that’s true.” I clasped my hands behind my back. “My Court is diverting enough.”

“And do tell me, what about it is so diverting? I could never unravel that during my time there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “My Queen, you’ve been to the Hewn City. Did they not amuse you?”

“They were plenty amusing. I have plans to model this mountain’s architecture after theirs. But I can’t help but feel as though I didn’t see your entire Court.  Members of key bloodlines were missing – where was the Morrigan? Where was that creature that men fear, who drinks blood like wine?” She tilted her head.

“She is little more than a legend – I thought you would have known that. A tale mothers tell their children to keep them from straying too far.”

“Is that not what all of Prythian is, to mortals?”

I fought the urge to grit my teeth. All these questions were striking too close for comfort.

“You must be lonely. All that power, half of a millennium by yourself, an equal never found. You never found a mate, did you?” Her voice took on a mocking edge. “Come to think of it, I’ve never heard of any lovers you’ve had."

It took effort to keep my expression the same. She couldn’t find out about Feyre, or any of my circle. That was my goal in all this – to protect them and my people.

“I never had the fortune to find a mate. But leadership has kept me plenty occupied.”

“Does it? Kier told me you barely ever make an appearance in the Hewn City.”

Damn him. “I prefer to rule from afar. I have a castle in the mountains where I spend my time.” Another truth.

“I plan to be an attentive ruler, Rhysand. But I have no intention to spend all of my time bored and alone.”

I didn’t say anything, a pit of dread growing in my stomach.

“Tamlin isn’t here right now. But you would occupy me well, in the meantime.”

“I don’t know if that would be wise, My Queen.” I didn’t break her gaze.

Her tone sharpened. “Are you questioning my judgment? You’re the only one worthy of me, Rhysand, and deep down you know it. And I could do….considerable things for you.”

Sleeping with her…..sleeping with her, giving a pretense about caring for her…. it would draw attention away from whoever I might be close to. Away from Feyre. Perhaps she would come to trust me, in time. I could use it to my advantage.

“These years may grow long. We will both need something to distract us.” She pushed, gripping my arm tightly. “Without your couriers to provide the _amusement_ you claim, surely you will need a distraction.”

I blinked for a moment too long. And when I opened my eyes, the decision was made.

So I let my gaze turn wolfish, taking in her body. She was, objectively, beautiful. “I’ve been told I’m very, very good at distractions.”

“Then we’re in agreement. Escort me to my chambers, Rhysand.”

I linked my arm into hers, the portrait of a gentleman, giving her a small smirk. Her tongue grazed her lips, eyes dilating.

The mounting dread in my stomach grew and grew. The carnage of earlier hadn’t made me throw up, but this….this might do it.

I had slaughtered and tricked my way across battlefields for years, played mind games of politics.

This was a new, different sort of fight. But I would treat it as I had all the others.

I didn’t know the way to her rooms, but she told me where to turn with a tug against our linked arms. The hallways were dark, arches and corridors casting shadows onto the ground. Our own shadows looked monstrous in the dim lighting. Besides the guards stationed intermittently, we were the only two out, and not a sound came from the wing we approached. At last, at the end of a long corridor, we approached a wide door, finer than others I had seen. It alone was carved, depicting gods and monsters in the pattern.

Amarantha reached for the doorknob, dark-painted nails curling around the handle. The door opened with a click, and faelight from the corridor shone into the room, casting a bit of light.

She left my side and placed a glowing ball of soft faelight in a bowl by her bedside, illuminating the room. It was an oddly familiar gesture; one I had done myself countless times.

The suite was grand, and already well decorated in colors of purple and gray. Hybern’s color, and the color of her own House. A reminder of who this was all supposedly for.

The bed drew my attention first – grand and ostentatious, covered in rich silks. The bedposts rose like daggers from the ground. From high ceilings hung large silver chandeliers that remained unlit. Fine tapestries in rich colors covered the walls. The suite had been decorated far in advance. I had no doubts that her newfound prisoners were sleeping in less comfort.

No windows, obviously. One exit – the one we had come through - and a door leading to the rest of her chambers.

Amarantha strutted back to me, gate seductive and face half-hidden in shadow. In the darkness, her hair was much less red. She placed one hand on my chest, the other reaching up to tear off my mask. It landed behind me with a thud, and bile began to rise in my throat.

“You say you’ve spent your due time on battlefields, winning victory after victory. But I have fought for longer than you’ve been alive.”

She placed one hand on my chest, and with the other reached up to remove my mask with a gentle touch. I could feel her breath on my cheek, and the scent of rich perfume wafted towards me - a heady vanilla.

I didn’t lean away.

“And tonight, you will truly learn of _war_.”

- 

When it was done, I lay on my back and watched the chandelier, trying to distinguish patterns in the twisted metal, its dull grey finish gleaming slightly in the faelight. She hadn’t extinguished it.

Amarantha lay only a few feet away, physical and mental shields as strong as ever. I had checked, laying here for minutes on end before I could rally the strength and will to try it.

The tides of her breathing remained steady, soft. She seemed almost innocent in sleep – red hair unbound and flowing across the pillow, naked body hidden by the silken sheets.

It felt like I was floating. Out of my body, to somewhere else. It had stopped feeling like my body halfway through.

Even so, the places on my back she had dug her nails into still stung, the pain lingering longer than I had expected it to.

I lay awake as the hours passed, blocking out the memories as I remembered who I was doing this for.

She had vowed to teach me of war.

And it was obvious who the victor was tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a line in this chapter inspired by Hozier's Cherry Wine. It seemed to fit the mood so perfectly that I couldn't resist.


End file.
